


Softly

by Literary



Series: Rewritten [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Marriage of Convenience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9826964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Literary/pseuds/Literary
Summary: She didn't love him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of a 'fic written in June of 2013. This was probably my most popular _Awakening_ 'fic, so I hope this edited version is as good as people remember it being.

She didn’t love him.

Not even on the wedding night.

The wedding itself was a simple affair, calm and quiet and with a feast afterward at Chrom and Lissa’s insistence. No forever-union could be allowed to happen, they insisted, without a respectable celebration afterward.

Frederick was quiet throughout the ceremony. Afterward, at the head of the table beside her, he said very little but smiled a lot. Cordelia was not so foolish that she didn’t know a façade when she saw one, but this once she ignored it. It would be silly to say anything now with a band on her ring finger close to her heart.

That night, granted as much privacy as was wise, their marriage was consummated. Cordelia remembered very little of that night; when she had realized what was drawing close she downed several glasses of wine, unsure of her ability to get through the ordeal without it.

Frederick was a gentleman, though: she remembered that much. And the first kiss he’d given her in their matrimonial bed had been so soft, so caring.

He was always asking questions to ensure that he was doing everything to her satisfaction as well as his own, and the more days that passed, the more she realized that his meticulousness carried into all aspects of his life. If everything was not _just so_ it wasn’t good enough and had to be redone, sometimes over and over again—like tucking the sheets.

She learned to live with it, and he learned to live with her strange habits, like only being able to sleep on her stomach, and brushing her hair two-hundred strokes before bed every night. So while he fretted over straightened the sheets, she brushed her hair.

It worked out, in the end. Chrom was harder to forget than she thought he would be; it was strange to see him around camp, to remember having strong feelings for him…while also seeing, out of the corner of her eye, the sunlight glinting off of her wedding band.

When Severa appeared, Cordelia’s world was changed. It was not shattered or turned upside-down; it was simply _different_. The older version of herself that Severa spoke of made her want to hate herself, but she knew that _she_ was different, or could be; she was not the same person who had carried young Severa for nine months, not the same person who had gone into labor clutching the sheets because Frederick had been forced away due to his constant niggling at the midwife.

She was _different_. The future had already been changed for all of them. And she intended to make certain that it kept changing.

* * *

 

“What is it?” Frederick asked, looking over his book at her. His candle was burning low; she realized she must have been staring for well over an hour.

She smiled and rolled onto her stomach, arms sliding beneath her pillow. “Just looking.”

“You’ve never done that before.”

“I think I should,” she murmured into the pillow. “Frederick? Seeing Severa—it just… I’ve done a lot of thinking. When I agreed to marry you, I wasn’t thinking so far ahead… Not about children, or—”

“I was.”

His voice was so soft that it made her lift her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m such a terrible wife.”

“No,” came his reply after he had closed his book and set it down. He blew out the candle, plunging both of them into darkness. “Cordelia, I asked you to marry me knowing full well that you might never feel the same way for me that I feel for you. That you are here now… That is enough for me.”

“But it shouldn’t be!” she cried, sitting up onto her knees while her hands searched for his face. Her fingers brushed against his cheek. “It shouldn’t be. You should want more from your _wife_ than that.”

He was silent for a long time. “What should I want then? Should I demand love—measure yours to ensure that it is equal to mine? Should I demand that you let me have you every night in the name of procreation or to satisfy my own desires?”

He sounded tired.

She could have cried and felt a pinching in her chest like she had when her daughter from the future had spoken to her—when she had realized what kind of person this mother of Severa’s was like.

“I,” she began, but could not find purchase for her slippery emotions. “I don’t know.” The admission stung even her, but she wrapped her arms around him, a sad sort of consolation prize. “You should want more than this.”

It took a few moments, but his arms came around her and he held her so tenderly that for an instant she felt that she might—

“I should want more than your loyalty?” he asked. “More than your patience with me when I have to retuck the sheets sixteen times before I’ll let you in bed? More than the sound of you breathing as you sleep at night, next to me—safe?”

She didn’t know what to say to that so she just shook her head. She wanted to love him more than anything; he deserved it far more than Chrom had. He had promised to never make her cry the way their esteemed liege had, and yet…she found it hard to care for Frederick in the same way. Was it because Frederick cared for her? She didn’t know.

All she knew was that she wanted to love him—needed to love him. What would happen to Severa if she didn’t? What would happen to _her_? And what would happen to Frederick in the end?

Maybe he was satisfied with a compliant, chattering wife now, but eventually he would grow tired of her, wouldn’t he? Eventually he would want a wife who loved him, who kissed him good morning instead of just accepting a kiss _from_ him.

Did she want to kiss him? She had never thought about it. She had simply accepted him, his affection and his feelings, without ever stopping to consider her own.

She wanted to ask what it felt like to love someone who loved you in return, but she didn’t dare; it was too embarrassing, too silly. Cordelia was skilled with a spear but that was her only talent.

“You should want love,” she told him, finally, and he released her.

“Companionship is the next best thing,” was what he said after she settled back down, but she knew that he was settling and she hated it.

As the months passed, she started to wonder more about it. Why did he love her? He said it every night before they went to sleep, even though she had never once responded in kind.

“Good night,” he would say, softly. “I love you.”

And she would just lie there, sometimes pretending to be asleep and other times responding with, “Good night, Frederick.”

Why didn’t he love Lissa or Cherche or Maribelle? Why did he love Cordelia, whose heart had finally moved on from Chrom but remained stagnant thereafter? She felt incapable of it, now. Was she not allowed to love someone who loved her? Was that something she would always be denied? Was Frederick always to love her and she was always to just _let_ him instead of wanting to reciprocate somehow?

She did not regret marrying him, not even a little. He was a wonderful husband and a great listener. He tried to make things romantic. He always told her that he loved her.

And he didn’t give up.

A year after Grima’s defeat, they had returned to Ylisstol. He took charge of training the new recruits and she was his helpmate, his partner. She helped him teach the green kids how to hold a spear properly. Habit, routine.

Wake up, work, come home, “Good night. I love you.”

It was the same from week to week; nothing really changed. Sometimes Frederick would do something like, like bring home some extra meat for an especially good stew, or he would rub her shoulders as she sat in the bath.

Then she found herself pregnant.

She told him as they lay in bed together.

“I guess you can’t sleep on your stomach anymore,” he said.

“I suppose not.”

“Is there anything I can do that will help you sleep?”

“Yes.” She said it before she could stop herself, before she could even _form_ a coherent thought. “Hold my hand.”

He took her fingers in his, drawing them through his own. “Good night,” he said, softly as always. He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love you.” And then he said a second, “Good night,” whispered against her still-flat belly. “I love you.”

She cried, then, quite against her own will, bursting into loud sobs which were soon muffled against Frederick’s chest as he pulled her close.

“What is it?” he asked her. “Whatever is the matter?”

But she couldn’t answer him for a long time, and when she finally did, her voice was high pitched and whiny—more like a girl than a woman. “I _want_ to love you, but I think I must be incapable of it!” She didn’t dare look at his face, knowing it would be a partial smile, his best façade to cover up any hurt feelings.

But he pulled her away and made her look at him. Earnestly, he said, “Do you still love Chrom?”

She shook her head immediately. “No. He is happy with another and I am happy for him. I rarely think of him these days.”

“Then give it time,” he told her, smoothing back her hair and kissing her forehead. “Love is not something you can force on anyone, despite what Tharja always said.”

The next morning he suggested that she stay home and do the cleaning instead of going out to train the new recruits with him. She agreed, but only because she was pregnant and she wanted the best for their daughter—or son, if Severa’s being in the current world had changed things. Besides, she wondered if maybe she could use some time to herself.

It was a long day, oddly quiet without Frederick around to talk to.

Standing in their bedroom as she cleaned it, she said aloud,” I miss him.” It was such an interesting thought that she said it again, astounded: “I _miss_ him. I miss _Frederick._ I miss my husband.”

And she kept going as she brought in the laundry and folded it.

“We would be eating lunch together right about now, and he would be sharing a funny story about the greenest recruit he has.” She could almost hear his laughter, too, when she hung the drapes out on the clothesline and the wind pulled them into the air with a _snap_.

He was late getting home that night, as she knew he would be without her there to remind him that he had done enough work for one day, and tired from cleaning the entire house top to bottom, she did not wait up for him.

* * *

 

When Cordelia’s eyes opened again it was before dawn, and she turned her head to see that Frederick was still asleep. They’d slept beside one another many nights, yet she realized she had never actually watched him sleep. It was odd, she thought as she reached for him, that she already knew every line of his face, the slope of his jaw, the way his hair fell, the sound of his breathing.

He stirred, hand reaching up to touch hers. Sleepily, he murmured, “What is it?”

The only thing she could think to say was, “I know you.”

“What?” his eyes opened and he gave her a long, curious look. “Of course you do. We’ve been married for—”

“I know you better than I’ve ever known anyone,” she said. “I know all of your habits and I know your favorite foods. I know that you love me, not because you say it every night, but because you hold me when I cry and never ask for more from me than I can give.” She as almost in tears just saying it.

He didn’t say anything; he just gave her an odd sort of smile that didn’t show his teeth, where half his mouth tilted upward.

She realized that he was touched by her words, if only a little, and hugged him.

When she first imagined married life with Frederick, what felt like a lifetime ago, she had assumed he would be very cautious about everything, maybe even stoic. But that wasn’t the case at all; his habits were odd and his compulsive behavior annoying at times, but he really did care about her. It showed in everything he did, in how he looked at her—even in the way he kissed her, like he had on their wedding night.

That first kiss, so softly given that she had thought, for just a moment, that she had imagined it.

That was the _only_ way he had ever kissed her. Never hard or demanding even when it was clear that he wanted her more than anything. He had always been so _patient_ with her. She didn’t deserve it, but she wanted to.

And she wanted to try something, too.

Pulling back a little, she just looked at him. He didn’t question her—he just remained still as if he felt that moving would ruin the moment. Then, before she lost her nerve, she kissed him—hard—and felt his arms tighten around her, pulling her close as he responded.

When she pulled away after a long moment, he looked like he wanted to say something, but she stopped him by speaking first.

“I wanted to do that.”

“Oh?”

“I missed you yesterday. It was the first time I have ever had that thought.”

“We’ve scarcely been apart even a few hours since we’ve been married,” he admitted. “Fighting together, then working together.”

“I guess that makes sense,” she mused. “Come home earlier tonight.”

“I did not mean to be so late,” he said, a half-apology.

“I know. You’re completely lost without me there to help. Well, I’m making your favorite for dinner tonight so you’ll want to be home at the usual time to help eat it. You _know_ I can eat all of it myself if I have to.”

He gave her a pleased smile. “I’ll be home on time I haven’t forgotten those sandwiches. I really missed out that day.”

“And it wasn’t even your fault,” she teased, giving him a playful shove.

He just pulled her up into a big, warm hug. “I haven’t stopped loving you.”

“I know,” she said, “and I don’t think I can say that I love you, too, yet…but I think I am getting closer.”

The kiss he pressed against her temple told her how happy that made him.

“You’d best hurry up. Look—the sun. You’ll be late if you don’t get up!”

“What?” He looked out of the window and then nearly jumped out of bed before he reached down to try and straighten the blankets—with her still in them. She pushed him away, laughing. “Not today,” she told him. “I’ll fix it.”

And he actually left it for her.

Surprised, she followed him to the kitchen and started making him a couple of sandwiches for his lunch.

“I’ll fix it tonight,” he said.

“What, you don’t think I’ll do a good enough job?”

“Maybe.” His lip twitched in amusement.

“You,” she said, rolling her eyes. “You know what would be better for you to do than straighten the bedsheets a million times?”

“What?”

“You can brush my hair for me. And count the strokes.”

“Five-hundred strokes.”

“I only do _two_ -hundred.”

“I want to do five.”

“Why?”

“I like your hair.”

She laughed. “Okay. Five-hundred strokes. Tonight. You’d best get home a little earlier so you’ll have the time.”

When he went to leave, she kissed him. It was nice and better than waiting to be kissed, she thought. So she did it again. And then she said, “I’ll miss you.”

It wasn’t “I love you,” but it made him smile.

“I love you, Cordelia,” he said. “And I always will.”

She was glad of that.

As she watched him ride away, she wondered if maybe love wasn’t what she had always thought it was—something that made your heart feel so full it was fit to burst, something exciting. Maybe love was actually something gentle and quiet, something soft—like the way Frederick kissed her. That would explain why it had been so hard to find.

**Author's Note:**

> "Sometimes love isn’t fireworks, sometimes love just comes softly."  
> -Janette Oke, _Love Comes Softly_


End file.
